Mr Clean
by Lady Wisiaden
Summary: Kon is a bit disturbed by Tim's sudden adeptness at cleaning.


**Title:** Mr. Clean

**Author:** Wisiaden

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters from the DC universe.

**Rating:** K

**Summary:** Kon is a bit disturbed by Tim's sudden adeptness at cleaning.

**Characters/Pairings: **Tim, Kon

**Warnings:** None.

**Author's Note:** I was looking over some 90s Tim comic strips online, and over someone's post about Tim actually being messy when you look at the panels of his room (which I can't remember where to cite it). And now, I have a headcanon that Tim was a very messy kid but training under Batman made him neater (oh no! How can you fight crime if you can't even find your gear? All those bad criminals could probably steal something from your room and you wouldn't even know it!). Then, cleaning up and being neat became routine and calming to Tim. Of course, shit happen and people died and now Tim is like the uber control freak. Anyway, this is set in the Teen Titans era and Kon notices that Tim has suddenly become neater. And, and, I want to write an angst-y sequel to this after Kon came back from being dead...but *flails* can't write sad stuff at the moment.

* * *

No way. No fucking way. This wasn't Robin—couldn't be Tim, Kon thought. It was a disguise. An act. Something freaky that bats did when no one was paying attention. It wasn't Tim at all. Kon watched as Tim carefully AND neatly (how wrong was that?) folded his underwear into small perfect squares. Tim looked up, feeling the eyes on him.

"What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Kon blurted out. "Look at you!"

"Me?" Tim asked quizzically. Kon nodded and gestured at Tim's not Tim action.

"I'm folding laundry. You can help. This shirt's yours."

Kon stared. And stared some more at the black shirt Tim offered him.

"Dude, you did _my_ laundry?"

"I didn't have enough for a load," Tim explained. "Shouldn't waste water."

Kon wanted to smash his head against the wall except he'll probably break it with his super strength. Since when did Tim care about wasting water?

"Do you even realize what you sound like?" Kon asked. He took the shirt. Tim didn't answer and went on folding quietly. Kon grimaced and his shirt ended up into a rumbled bundle. Ma would be appalled, but Kon wasn't paying attention. Tim, however, rescued the poor shirt, smoothed it out and refolded it. Kon thought he should really smash his head against the wall. Screw budget plan. He'll claim it was an accident. An accident of being wigged out by Tim's sudden ability to clean. Tim calmly picked up the stack of clothes and put them away in the dresser. Then, the clothes Tim couldn't fold, he hanged in his closet. Kon choked. Tim's closet was so organized it could have sparkled. In fact, Kon could hear the "ping" of how sparkly freaking Mr. Clean sparkle it was.

"Did you—are you-," Kon spluttered. This was definitely not Tim. Tim was not, not…

Tim finished putting away his clothes, running a hand down one uniform to get the rid of the creases. He shut the door carefully and paused by his bookshelf. Tim adjusted the picture frame of the Titans. Kon could only imagine it was somehow imperfectly crooked though it looked rather straight to him. Kon twitched as Tim turned to Kon.

"Are you okay, Kon? Maybe you need something to eat," Tim frowned. He glanced at the clock.

"No! It's just—when did you become so neat?"

Tim looked at Kon with that what the hell are you talking about? look that he most likely learned from the Bat. He and Clark could probably write a guide about Bats and how to read them and their many different silences. They would probably make millions. That was awesome but back to the matter… Kon waved his hands dramatically at Tim's room as if it was obvious because it should be. It was a very violent motion in protest.

"You used to be messy!"

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but Kon interrupted him, "and don't say you aren't. I've seen you room, just like I've seen all those enya stuff you claim not to like."

"Tim?" Kon probed when Tim didn't answer but went straight stiff back. Then, Tim rubbed the back of his head and was all relaxed. What?

"I just got neater?" Tim said sheepishly. "Training from the Batman? I like it—it's kind of calming?"

"Are you asking me?"

"No," Tim quickly replied. "I don't know. I just got neater."

Kon only felt slightly mollified.

"Well," Kon conceded. "your OCD-ness is scaring me."

"Like your appetite doesn't scare me?" Tim jibed.

"Hey! You should see Bart."


End file.
